


A Cup Of Sorrows

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elves, Heavy Angst, Miscarriage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tolkien tells us that Elrond's wife, Celebrian, was captured by orcs and that within a year of the event she left for the West.  I'm expanding on those bare facts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters or settings of this story. They all belong to JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed and expanded a little on his story and I hope he will forgive me for the intrusion.

Frodo stood at the rail, watching the rainbows form and reform in the spray of the waves breaking against the bow. Although he was feeling quite chilled he did not yet want to return below decks to the confinement of his small dark cabin. The breeze changed direction suddenly, slipping beneath his cloak to force a shiver, making the canvas sail above his head snap and crack and sending the crew scurrying to tighten rigging.

He turned his back to the chill draft and found that he was not alone, for a tall figure stood at the opposite rail. Dressed entirely in grey he would have been indistinguishable from the steel grey of the sea and sky beyond him, were it not for the long sable hair, whipping about his face in the wind.

As if he sensed Frodo’s gaze the elf turned and smiled faintly. “Good day to you Master Frodo.”

“Good day to you Lord Elrond.”

“Do you not wish to partake of luncheon?”

Frodo shook his head. “I’m not really hungry.”

The elven healer’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the little hobbit. “Are you feeling unwell? If the sea does not agree with you I can arrange something to settle your stomach.”

Frodo sighed. He was getting tired of everyone asking him that. “No, just not very hungry. I find I am not as interested in food as I once was.”

“Nevertheless, you should eat.”

Frodo sighed again and turned back to the rail, pulling his cloak more tightly about him. The breeze carried his words back to Elrond. “Now you sound like Bilbo.”

Strolling across the deck to stand at his side, Elrond bent to lean against the rail. “Then your Uncle is correct.”

“Then why are you not eating, Lord Elrond? I have not seen you at many meals since we set sail,” Frodo retaliated a little peevishly.

The elf stared off into the distance. “I too, have no great appetite at present.”

Frodo stepped closer and looked up curiously. “Not for the same reason as me, I hope?”

Elrond looked down with the hint of a smile. “That would depend upon your reason.”

Tired of trying to put people off with excuses, Frodo took a deep breath and decided on the truth. “I worry about what I will find at the other side; whether or not I will find healing,” he blurted, a little relieved now that he had actually voiced it.

He was surprised to see Elrond nod, his eyes reflecting Frodo’s uncertainty. “I too am uneasy about stepping upon the far shore,” came the confession.

Frodo blinked. “But I thought . . . I never imagined . . . But you are going home,” he stammered.

A rueful smile settled upon Elrond’s face. “You, of all people Frodo, should know that coming home is not always the pleasure we would wish it to be.”

The Ringbearer winced. “But you are going to be with your lady. Surely you are looking forward to that?”

“Perhaps.” Elrond frowned. “I too have surrendered the known for the unknown; for a hope. It would seem that we have much in common.”

“I don’t understand.” Frodo shivered as the wind worried its way beneath the edges of his cloak once more, a reaction not missed by the elven healer.

“Perhaps we should go below. We could share a late luncheon and I shall explain,” suggested Elrond.

Even now, try as he may, Frodo had not rid himself of his unhobbit-like curiosity. “Very well.” At the very least it would keep his mind from his own worries.

The two turned and climbed down the stairs to the companionway. But instead of continuing to the stern and the communal area, Elrond led the way to his own cabin and ushered Frodo within.

The little hobbit looked about him, curiously as Elrond excused himself to fetch some food. The cabin was much like his own; small and enclosed. Along one wall was set a bunk, which looked as though it had not been slept in, and a small bedside cabinet. A washstand and a narrow wardrobe, on the door of which Elrond had hung their cloaks, graced another and the only difference to his own cabin was the small desk by which he now sat. On a tiny table beneath the porthole, were set four pots of earth, each carrying the seedling of a tree; two oaks, an ash and a willow.

Elrond returned a few minutes later with a tray, which he set upon the bed. Frodo drew up his chair while Elrond unfolded another for himself. The tray contained a wide variety of dishes and the healer pointedly filled a plate for his guest with small spoonfuls of several items and set it before Frodo, along with a glass of cool white wine. For himself he selected only some bread and cheese and a few grapes, although he also poured a glass of wine. Not wishing to seem ungrateful, Frodo tasted some of the contents of his plate and, after a few mouthfuls, actually found he was beginning to enjoy it. It was more relaxing, somehow, sitting here quietly with the calm elf rather than under Bilbo’s critical eye.

For a while they ate in silence and then Frodo’s eyes were drawn back to the seedlings by the window. “Have you brought those to remind you of Imladris?”

Elrond followed his gaze, taking a sip of wine before answering. “Yes and no. Celebrian (my wife) and I planted a tree when each of our children was conceived. As they do not travel West with me I have brought seedlings from their trees.”

Frodo counted them again and still came up with four. “I thought you had only three children, the twins Elrohir and Elladan and the Lady Arwen. Who is the fourth one for?” He cursed his inquisitiveness when he glanced up to discover Elrond’s grey eyes filled with sadness. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No Frodo. I am not offended. In truth the willow bears greatly upon the story I am about to relate. I do have four children but, unfortunately, one did not live long in this world. Perhaps we will meet upon the far shore some day.” He settled back in his chair, his voice clear but melancholy as he began his tale. “Some parts of the story I was not privy to at the time but I have gleaned the information since.”

Listening to the ancient elven lord’s voice Frodo was swept into a different time and place. Later he could not have said how much was spoken and how much was conjured from his own imaginings for he seemed to drift within the web of a dream.

0o0

Something tickled his ear and Elrond tried to brush it aside, thinking he had succeeded until the annoyance returned moments later. Sighing, he brought his eyes into focus, falling at once into twin pools of silvered blue.

“You!”

His wife laughed in response and ran her tongue delicately around the rim of his ear again.

Reaching up he grabbed her shoulders and rolled to the side, taking her with him until Celebrian lay amongst the pillows and it was he who looked down into her eyes. He bent to place what would have been a mischievous kiss upon her lips but she reached up to meet him, returning his ardour with a strength of her own until they were forced to draw apart to catch their breath.

Celebrian giggled softly. “You should be careful, my love. Such actions have consequences,” she announced archly.

“I do hope so,” Elrond replied, mischievously as he started to lay a trail of kisses across her shoulder.

Still giggling, Celebrian pulled away from him. “Other consequences,” she emphasised, her eyes twinkling.

Elrond slipped a hand to her belly and he reached out with his healer’s senses. He knew they had conceived but now he could sense it . . . a faint flutter . . . the tiniest of heartbeats running counterpoint to Celebrian’s own. His eyes widened and then he swooped in to kiss her again.

It was some time before they continued their conversation. From her place, nestled within the protection of her husband’s arms, Celebrian murmured, “So, is it a boy or a girl?” She felt his answering chuckle against her cheek.

“Why do you always need to know? Is it not enough that there is another life to testify to the love that we share?”

Celebrian ran a finger across his chest, feeling his body’s response to her touch. “There has to be some advantage to my being married to the wielder of one of the three mighty elven rings of power.” She was disappointed when the comment brought only stillness to her husband.

“I wish you would not mention it so openly, even between us,” he murmured. “The three must remain hidden from our enemy. We have not the power to resist him if he discovers their whereabouts.” 

“I am sorry, my love.” Celebrian snuggled closer in apology and Elrond responded by placing a light kiss on the crown of her silver head.

“It is a girl child.”

Celebrian smiled. “The twins will be pleased.”

Elrond laughed. “Oh, they will be ecstatic!”

 

0o0

The twin’s reactions were mixed but it would be fair to say that ecstasy was not one of them. Breakfast was nearly over when their mother and father made their announcement.

“A boy or a girl?” Elrohir demanded with no preamble, very reminiscent of his grandmother.

“A girl,” his father replied in kind.

Elladan glanced at his brother and grimaced. “Not more doll’s tea parties and temper tantrums?”

Celebrian stepped in, noting her husband drawing breath for one of his more caustic replies.

“Yes, more dolly’s tea parties. And, as I remember it, temper tantrums are not the exclusive domain of little girls.”

Even full grown, to their credit, both twins ducked their heads in embarrassment.

“So you are not happy?” their father asked quietly.

“Of course we are, Adar,” both rushed to reassure him in perfect unison. “It will be lovely to have a little one about the place.”

Elrond noted a fleeting grimace on both faces but a serene Celebrian squeezed his hand beneath the table. “I told you they would be happy.”

She had to slap him on the back as Elrond nearly choked on his tea.

0o0

Galadriel stepped back from the water’s mirrored surface and smiled. Another girl child. Celeborn would have to be told that he was a grandfather again. She hoped he would be able to hold in his happiness long enough for Celebrian or Elrond to tell Arwen of her new sister themselves. The honour did belong to them after all.

It would not be long to wait. The couple would want to consult Galadriel’s mirror for the child’s future, at least Celebrian would. Elrond had never been fond of the mirror. He considered it too fickle, making no distinction between what would be and what could be. But Celebrian always managed to get her way on these matters. In that respect she was very much her mother’s daughter.

And they would have to travel soon, or Celebrian would be unable to ride. Galadriel emptied the silver basin and strolled away to bring her husband the good news.


	2. Chapter 2

Celebrian sighed. Elrond had been riding in silence for hours. Although he had agreed to accompany her his disapproval stood between them like a wall. His wife tried to chip away at it a little.

“You need not accompany me if you would rather not.”

Elrond blinked, having been pulled back from deep reverie. “These mountains are dangerous. If you must make this journey to Lothlorien I will escort you.”

“They are not that dangerous and I have a handpicked escort.” She waived at the elves surrounding them. They were Rivendell’s finest and she knew they were not there for Elrond’s protection.

“We should both be there to advise Arwen,” Elrond replied stubbornly. “That is assuming that your mother has not . . . Ugh!” He slumped forward in his saddle and for a moment all were too shocked to understand what had happened.

Celebrian grasped his shoulder and helped him up, gasping when she saw the thick black shaft protruding from his shoulder. Suddenly, she and Elrond were surrounded by their defenders and the creak and twang of bows was heard all about them.

With only one good arm Elrond could not draw bow but he wielded his sword instead, using it to deflect some of the arrows that now rained down upon them. That their enemies did not consider Celebrian a threat at first was clear, for none were aimed at her but reaching across she snatched Elrond’s bow and quiver. The bow was too heavy for her to make effective use of it but she managed to at least make a few orcs duck as she steadily depleted her husband’s supply of arrows. 

When the second black arrow struck Elrond’s arm he still kept moving but the third buried itself deep in his chest and it was then that he toppled from his horse to lay silent and still upon the trampled ground.

Celebrian was on her knees at his side within moments, cradling his head in her lap as she tried to rouse him. The escort drew a tighter circle around them but they were vastly outnumbered and, one by one, they fell.

Celebrian prayed to the Valar as the orcs circled her and the deeply unconscious Elrond.

0o0

The tall, black draped figure watched impassively as orcs “tended” their captive. The elf cried out as arrows were torn from his body, but their poison kept him unconscious and he lapsed into stillness again immediately. 

“Thisssssss.” It held out a small green flask and one of its minions scuttled up warily to snatch it from the gloved claw. The elf moaned as the liquid was poured between his teeth, coughing before his body swallowed automatically. There was no resistance as the orcs bound his chest with rags. The chest wound would kill the elf quickly and that would not suit the wraith’s purpose. The arm and shoulder they left uncovered. These their master could use to its advantage.

Celebrian sat silent in the corner of the stone chamber. She had little option for she was bound hand and foot and gagged, but the wraith could sense her tensing with each sound that came from her mate. If the emotional link were as strong in the other direction, getting the information it required would be but a simple matter.

Its lieutenant sidled up and waited for the cowl to sweep in his direction. Deep within the shadows of the hood no eyes could be seen but the orc felt the instant he had his master’s attention and cowered.

“The white skin is ready, my Lord.” The orc waved a deformed hand at Elrond of Rivendell, still unconscious upon the floor at the centre of the dark chamber. The black-clad figure glided silently across the stone floor. Others of its kin were more ungainly but this one . . . this one was different. All others bowed before it and as soon as it moved the orcs scattered to the edges of the room, watching and drooling.

For a few moments it stood, looking down at the prone figure, and the elf’s eyelids fluttered, his body responding unknowingly to its proximity. Unseen lips curved into what would once have been a handsome smile. The arrows had done their work in delivering the poison now coursing through the elf’s body. The firstborn’s metabolism was fighting the substance but it had been cleverly crafted and would take several days to clear his system, longer with further doses from the green flask. It was likely that the information would be extracted long before that would be necessary however, and the elf could then be disposed of. The flesh would be tainted but his minions would no doubt find some creative way to dispense with it. But in order to talk Elrond would have to be awake.

Celebrian watched. She had been overpowered easily enough by their numbers, her struggles largely ignored by her captors as they bound and gagged her securely. Elrond had been slung over the shoulder of one of the larger orcs and another carried Celebrian in like manner. She had struggled to raise her head enough to keep Elrond in sight for it was all she could do, and something within Celebrian hoped she could stave off his death if only she could keep him within sight.

They had been brought into a series of caves and tunnels deep within the Misty Mountains, their journey including so many twists and turns that Celebrian knew, even if they managed to escape their captors, she and Elrond may never find their way out again.

She watched, flinching when they ripped the arrows from her husband’s flesh. There was something in the fluid that they made him drink that seemed to enhance the action of the poison from the arrows already in Elrond’s system. She could sense the wrongness of it even from a distance. But all this she watched to prevent her mind from contemplating the Other.

Its presence had repelled her before she had even entered the chamber; a dark festering shadow looming at its centre. As she had been carried past she had sensed its eyes follow her as though a thousand slimy hands moved over her body. She had fought the urge to be sick, knowing that with the gag in her mouth she would choke. It was not yet time to die. She and Elrond were still alive and in that there was hope.

0o0

Nausea. That was a sensation he had not felt in a long time and he studied it for a while; the hot waves rolling through his body, followed by a clammy coldness and then the heat again. His attention was gradually pulled away by pain in his shoulder, chest and arm. Breathing was difficult but the lung had at least started to repair itself. Pain he knew and could deal with. He had been injured before.

There was something else. A strange substance crawled through his veins bringing lethargy and weakness wherever it touched. He tried to bring his healing song to bear upon it but it just slithered away from his attempts.

Suddenly he became aware of a new sensation. He was oppressed, as though a huge weight were being lowered upon him. Elrond struggled to draw breath into already poorly functioning lungs and his heart began to race, beating faster and faster in its efforts to spread around his body the benefit of what little air he was gaining.

The Witch King reached out with one clawed hand, its shadow falling across the chest of its captive and hidden eyes glinting in satisfaction as the elf moaned and squirmed. It clenched its fingers and the elf began to thrash helplessly, his lungs heaving in an effort to breathe. Dark lashed eyelids flew open and grey eyes stared in horror into the shadowed depths of the cowl above him.

Almost forgotten in the corner, Celebrian struggled to free herself but one of the orcs heard her efforts and turned, with a wicked parody of a smile upon its rubbery lips. A malformed hand reached out and cuffed her, hard, upon the cheek. Her head snapped back against the stone wall and blackness engulfed her.

0o0

Celeborn started as his wife’s unspoken wail ripped through his mind. Dropping his book he ran from the flet, navigating ladders and stairs at a speed that could have resulted in a fatal fall had he the time to consider it. He did not consider, however. His only thought was to reach Galadriel . . . now!

He found her leaning heavily upon the rim of her silvered mirror, her face ashen and lips clenched white. Celeborn caught her shoulders and turned her into the protective circle of his arms. For a moment she tensed, then leaned into his comfort but no tears dampened his shoulder. Her brother’s sister to the core, Galadriel never cried. But inwardly he felt her weeping inconsolably and Celeborn wrapped his fea about her and waited. Slowly the music of her soul quieted and returned to its normal melody, its rhythm only slightly faltering now, and Celeborn led her to sit upon a bench.

“Tell me.”

Pulling away slightly, Galadriel folded her hands calmly in her lap. Celeborn’s heart broke as he noted the faintest of tremors in her fingers.

“Celebrian and Elrond have been captured by orcs.” Galadriel had a habit of talking in veiled riddles with others but between the two of them she always spoke plainly. What use were riddles when the one you addressed could see into your heart?

As was his wont, Celeborn absorbed this news calmly. “Are you sure that this is not a foretelling rather than a happening?”

“I am sure.”

“Then, when did it happen? Are they alive?”

His wife looked at him levelly, her composure fully restored as she sifted through the images from the mirror.

“It happened today. Celebrian is alive but I am not sure about Elrond. At the least he is gravely injured. They had crossed the Misty Mountains and were near the lower pass.”

Celeborn rose. “I will assemble a force and send word to the twins. I fear that the task of informing Arwen must fall to you.”

Galadriel stood and kissed her husband lightly. “Be careful my love.”

Celeborn held her briefly once more before sending for his captains.

0o0

 

Elladan gently pushed the dove back into the cot and ran to find his twin, the sliver of paper clutched tight in his hand. Elrohir met him within yards of the house.

“What is it?”

Elladan thrust out his hand with its screwed up contents, unable to trust himself to speak. Elrohir opened it, smoothing the paper between his fingers and holding it up to the light. His heart faltered as he read the contents. 

Within minutes both brothers were saddling their horses and making for the pass across the Misty Mountains, with all of the Imladris household that they could muster.


	3. Chapter 3

At first Elrond could see nothing within the shadowed recesses of the cowl, but then he saw the eyes, burning red. They bore into his mind and spirit, searching for . . . for what?

“The Ring. Where is the Ring?” The claw tightened and Elrond’s heart faltered. Pain flared in his veins with each word spoken and he would have cried out with the ice white agony of it had he enough breath to do so. He tried to lock away what knowledge he held for he knew at once which ring the wraith sought.

The Witch King of Angmar leaned closer, reaching down until its hand touched the dark red stain on the elf’s shoulder and from somewhere Elrond dredged up the breath to scream as he felt an icicle of agonising pain flare in his flesh. Walls so carefully constructed in his mind were breached and a memory tumbled out before he could snatch it back.

 

0o0

Gil-galad’s standard bearer stood upon the narrow ledge above the Cracks of Doom, his cloak and hair billowing in the searing updraft from its boiling depths. Prince Isildur stood a little way from him, a large gold ring in his gloved hand. He hesitated and Elrond took a step closer.

“Cast it into the fire.”

The mortal looked from Elrond to his palm and tilted his head, as though listening to another voice. He smiled and began to turn and Elrond took another step.

“Isildur, no! Cast it into the fire from whence it came!”

Isildur merely continued to turn, pushing past Elrond and back the way they had come, the ring now clutched tightly in his fist.

For one moment, as the prince shouldered past him, Elrond considered wresting the ring from him but he dare not touch it and could only watch helplessly as the doom of Middle earth was sealed . . . with only the three rings left to protect it.

0o0

Elrond gasped and gulped in air as the claw released him, simultaneously trying to rebuild his inner defences

It was her husband’s scream that roused Celebrian from her dark pit. It echoed in her mind even as it echoed in the chamber, reverberating again and again until she wanted to stop her ears.

No more than a whisper, the wraith’s voice should not have been audible and yet it fell clearly upon the ears of both elves.

“Where isssss it? Where doth it now reside?”

Dark wings beat against Elrond’s defences, pushing against the newly rebuilt sections. The fresh mortar began to crumble and Elrond struggled to hold back the words that rose to his lips. He failed.

“I do not know.”

An icy dart of pain speared his soul and another scream was forced from him.

“I do not know.”

Celebrian threw out a tendril of support to her husband.

“I am with you, my love. Hold fast.”

It fell like a balm upon his hurts and Elrond grasped it gratefully but it did not last for long for the wraith spun, its gaze spearing Celebrian. She curled into herself, trying to give it no opening but it was too strong and once more she felt the fingers crawling over her skin, even though there was no physical contact. She whimpered in terror and suddenly became aware of another presence.

The small flutter of fear within her belly drew her attention away from her own terror and she tried to calm it.

“It is alright, little one. Ammi and Ada will protect you. Do not fear Tasare.”

Pain ripped her thoughts away as clawed hands grasped her hair and pulled her to her knees. Celebrian opened her eyes to find herself looking directly into the hideous face of an orc, brandishing a wicked knife.

Elrond was hauled to his feet and turned. He staggered and would have fallen once more had his captors not supported him. A loud sibilant hiss filled his mind. 

“Ssssspeak! Where dwell the three?”

An orc with a long knife advanced upon Celebrian and hooked clawed fingers in the bright mithril fall of her hair. For a moment cloud grey eyes and silver blue met.

“No, my love. I can withstand this,” came the gentle whisper in his mind and the first tear fell from Elrond’s eyes as he watched the orc hack away his wife’s long pale silken tresses.

0o0

Galadriel drifted down into the pale icy depths of Nenya, the ring of water. Settling at its centre she searched the frosty facets until she found the one she needed. Slipping from white to blue she followed the link to Vilya and almost recoiled as she encountered the pain and anguish that was her daughter’s husband; watched through his tear fogged eyes as the bright fall of silver was shorn from her daughter’s head.

Galadriel felt the sharp whisper insinuate itself into Elrond’s mind. “The three. Where dwell the three?”

Her mother’s heart cried out but Galadriel swallowed it down as she began to collect the fallen stones of Elrond’s defences and set them back in place. His relief at her touch was clear and she sent what comfort she could.

“Help is on the way. Hold fast,” Galadriel assured him.

She worked carefully, deftly avoiding detection by the being which loomed between Elrond and Celebrian. Broken walls she bridged and weakened sections she buttressed until the walls were almost as strong as they had been in the beginning.

The cowl leaned closer to the Lord of Imladris and an icicle of fiery pain once more impaled his fea. “Where are the three?”

Although the pain tore another scream from his lips the walls held and Elrond managed to gasp out, “No.” Vilya seemed to grow leaden on his finger and he clenched his hand into a fist, fearful that the jewelled ring would slip off.

The cowl did not move but several orcs reacted to an unspoken command, advancing upon the Lady of Imladris and beginning to finger her fine gown, their eyes leering down at her. Pain, combined with anguish, battered against Elrond’s defences as he watched them cut away the garments from her trembling figure, leaving her naked and cowering against the wall.

“Where are the three?”

0o0

Celeborn reined in his horse as he felt his wife’s touch on his heart and the escort drew to a halt in milling confusion. Haldir pulled his horse alongside his lord’s but, recognising the distant look in silver grey eyes, he did not speak.

The Lord of the Golden Wood had never felt his wife so uncertain and insecure before and he wrapped her in his steadying song until she was able to compose herself.

“One of the Nine is with them. It is asking Elrond the whereabouts of the three rings.”

“With your help, he can withstand,” her husband replied with certainty.

“I know but . . .” Galadriel’s voice faded for a moment and Celeborn had to seek it out.

“What is it?”

“They are torturing Celebrian to force him to talk.”

Haldir took the reins of Celeborn’s horse as his lord slumped a little in the saddle, the reins falling from slack fingers. For a moment the Lord of the Golden Wood remained thus then he straightened, his face set firm as he reclaimed the reins.

“The three must not be revealed.” The words landed, hard as granite, in Galadriel’s mind. For a moment he knew her shoulders sagged too and then she locked away her emotions. Her eyes had seen worse and yet this was their daughter. She pushed the thought down, locking it away. The three must not be found. More than one life was at stake here.

And yet behind the locked door her heart wailed in anguish at what she knew she must do.

0o0

Elrond slumped helplessly, the poison in his body subduing him. His captors did not bother to hold him up any longer, choosing instead to let him fall to his knees but a set of fingers hooked in his hair, pulling up his head to look upon the scene at the other end of the chamber. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut it out. But instead, he caught and held Celebrian’s terrified stare, desperate to offer what comfort he could.

She was tied spread-eagled, to rings set in the cold stone floor. The only part of her anatomy that she could move freely was her head and this she had turned to seek out the comfort of her husband’s gaze.

“The three. Where dwell the three?” The words battered against Elrond’s will as the first orc approached Celebrian. She whimpered as it ran sharp fingernails across her breasts and down her belly, drooling as it knelt between her smooth thighs and fumbled within the noisome fabric of its breeks.

Vilya was a leaden weight about Elrond’s finger and the words the wraith wanted rose in his throat. This could not be endured. Nothing was worth the soul of his love. He opened his mouth . . . 

“No!” Galadriel’s will clamped like a vice about his mind and he fought in vain against the power that held him silent as the orcs mauled his love again . . . and again . . . and again . . . 

The first had been the worst but with each successive intrusion Celebrian had withdrawn further into herself. She had tried to comfort the child in her belly but as she drew away from the torture she slipped away from her body too and the little one was abandoned to her terror at last.

Still too fragile to withstand such a physical and emotional trauma the tiny heart slowed, faltered . . . 

A sound finally escaped Elrond’s lips. A long wail was torn from his throat, rolling through the passageways of the Misty Mountains as he heard the last fluttering beat of his daughter’s heart.

In the foothills of the Misty Mountains Celeborn gasped, then spurred his horse into a gallop and in Lothlorien a lone crystal tear tracked unseen down Galadriel’s ageless cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

“Ada?”

Her father looked up from where he was patiently plaiting a new bowstring, his silver hair glowing in the moonlight. “Yes, Celebrian?”

Twirling a golden leaf in her tiny hand, Celebrian looked up at him. “Why do the leaves fall?”

Celeborn considered the question for a moment. “It is their time to pass on. They are born, they live a while, they age and are gone. That is the way Illuvatar sang them.”

Silver blue eyes looked up into his, a hint of worry in their depths. “Were you and Ammi sung that way?”

Celeborn put aside his work and gathered her into his lap, brushing back her hair as he smiled down into her face. “No, Celebrian. Elves do not age in that way. When we tire of this land we cross the sea and return to our home, there any weariness and hurt is healed and we can live on in happiness.”

She snuggled into her Ada’s chest contentedly. “You won’t ever cross the sea before me, will you?”

“No Celebrian. I promise. I could never tire of a world in which you lived.”

0o0

Elrond watched the blood seep from dozens of cuts on his wife’s body and it seemed to him that her mind flowed out with it. Once more, he sent a questing string of soul notes to her but all he received in return was a jumble of fragmented childhood memories. His senses were snapped back to his own body as the wraith touched him again, pain flaring through every nerve and sinew.

“The three. Sssssspeak to me of the three.”

Elrond’s heart cried out, “Yes . . . yes. I will tell you. Only leave her be!” His lips almost moved, but Galadriel’s iron will clamped them shut, even as Elrond felt her working at something else. Ice seared in his veins and the voice invaded his mind.

“Tell me of the three. I know that you possess the knowledge.”

And the Lord of Imladris wailed for suddenly he did not know where they were. The knowledge was locked away behind walls he had not erected and did not even know existed. The wraith’s grip tightened and his body thrashed helplessly against the renewed onslaught.

 

0o0

Elladan wiped his face on his sleeve. He had appointed personally all of the elves whose bodies, or body parts, were now strewn about the trail. His brother re-appeared from behind a tree, swilling his mouth with water, face still ashen. Not content with killing, the orcs had only been satisfied when they had disfigured anything of beauty that they could find. There were even some body parts missing and none of the elves wanted to consider what had happened to those.

“We should not leave them thus,” Elrohir whispered, looping the canteen back on his horse’s saddle. “They deserve better than this.”

Several others in the group nodded in agreement. Elladan soothed his horse, which had begun to stamp and roll its eyes in disquiet. Never having been in battle before the animal was not happy to be around the smell of death and his master was having difficulty quieting him.

Elrohir was reminded of their father’s sternest voice when his brother spoke next. “We have not the time. The living need our help more than the dead,” Elladan announced through clenched teeth as he remounted. “We will send someone back to tend them later.” He gave the signal and everyone turned their horses to follow the clearly visible trail trampled by the orcs.

0o0

Galadriel sat, rooted as a Mallorn. “Do not let go, child. Ada is coming for you.”

“Please Ammi, let me go. It hurts too much. I am weary and I want to fade, like the leaves.”

“No daughter. It is not your time to fade. Remember what your Ada told you?” Knowing that to ask her daughter to hold on to the present was too cruel, Galadriel offered memories of happier days.

“Do you remember the first time I took you to see Nimrodel and told you the story of Beren and Luthien?”

A small child’s voice rose clear and sweet in Galadriel’s mind. “The leaves were long, the grass was green, the hemlock-umbels tall and fair . . .”

0o0

The dark haired elf lay silent and still, his eyes closed and his breathing hardly perceptible. The silver haired one lay still too, body and mind ebbing. The orcs had abandoned their sport long ago, for there was no pleasure when the object of your torture ceased to scream and squirm.

The wraith returned its attention to the elf at its feet. It had tried every method it knew and yet still, the Firstborn had not surrendered the information that the wraith knew such a lord must possess. Elrond of Rivendell must be privy to the whereabouts of the three rings. He had been herald and friend to the last High Elven King.

The Witch King explored the unconscious mind before it. There was little left in the long memory that had not been revealed and explored. Despite Galadriel’s efforts the carefully constructed walls about Elrond’s soul had been breached for some time now and, although nearly every corner of his life had been turned over by the wraith, it was certain that the whereabouts of the three was not there. And yet that knowledge should be there.

This was the husband of the child of Celeborn and Galadriel, rulers of Lothlorien and oldest and wisest of the elves of Middle earth. Here also was the confidante of Gil-galad, the son of Earendil, who roved the night sky, and Elwing who bore the last Silmaril. The wraith glided through the parched and arid landscape of the soul before him again. The knowledge had to be there.

A tiny string of silvered notes in the faltering song of Elrond’s soul caught its attention. Quiet and faint, the wraith had almost missed it and only the fact that it ran steady when all about it stumbled made it apparent at all. The wraith moved closer and found a tiny enclave set about with walls of mithril and bright crystal, hard as adamant. The wraith touched it and recoiled in anger.

Galadriel!

That was why it had been unable to find what it sought. The Witch of the Golden Wood had walled it about, which meant that she knew what was happening. The wraith screamed in frustration, a sound that sliced through the soul of all who heard it, and the orcs cowered or fled in terror from its sound.

0o0

At the entrance to the tunnels Elladan and Elrohir drew rein and they and their party dismounted. Of Celeborn there was as yet no sign but there was no doubt that he and his larger group would be arriving soon from Lothlorien. The confidence of the orcs was clear, as scouts had returned advising that the creatures had not even posted a guard.

“We must go in now,” Elrohir insisted as he grabbed his brother’s arm and tried to drag him towards the entrance. “They have been in there for days.”

Elladan planted his feet firmly, taking Elrohir by the shoulders and turned his twin to face him. “The tunnels are complex and deep. We could wander around for weeks in there and still not find them. And get us and them killed in the process.” He had learned well from his father and his calm voice covered the anguish in his heart. “Only grandmother can guide us to them so we must wait.”

Elrohir’s shoulders slumped. He could not deny the logic of his brother’s words but his mind and body screamed at the inactivity. “Could we not at least scout a little way in, to determine how well it is guarded?”

Elladan was silent for a moment as he considered. Elrohir was a good scout, swift and silent, but at the moment his emotions could hamper him. “We must be careful not to make our presence known. If we are seen all will be lost.”

His brother rolled his eyes at his caution. “I will be careful.”

Elladan capitulated. “Then take two others with you. The rest of us will wait here for grandfather.”

0o0

Celeborn arrived with the dawn, his large party materialising out of the grey morning mist and the shadows of the surrounding trees. They dismounted silently and Celeborn and Haldir approached the twins outside the entrance to the cave system. Elrohir was talking before they were even close, although his voice was carefully modulated to carry only to their ears.

“There are no guards at the entrance but I saw many more inside. I dare not go too far into the tunnels for fear of losing my bearings.”

Used to his grandson’s lack of preamble, Celeborn merely nodded. “Then, as your parents are within, we must find some way to draw at least some of the orcs without and away from them.”

Elladan hugged his Grandfather in greeting. “Thank you for coming.” He glanced worriedly about the party. “Is Grandmother not with you?” 

“She remains in Lothlorien, with your sister. But she talks with me,” Celeborn smiled reassuringly, tapping his temple lightly with one gloved finger. Speaking mind to mind was a skill the twins had yet to master, although they knew that their parents could do it over short distances. Their grandparent’s skill in the art, however, was legendary, even among elves.

“How deep do the tunnels run?” interjected Haldir, who had little knowledge of the mountains this far north.

Elrohir sighed. “The Misty Mountains are riddled with passageways and caves, many of them formed by water long before the orcs arrived. But the vile creatures have delved deeper and expanded the systems. No one knows for certain how many tunnels there are now and that is why we have never been successful in flushing them clean. Whenever we try they simply moved to a different part of the system.”

“We will never find them on our own, Grandfather, even with all these” Elladan added sadly, motioning towards the elves scattered amongst the shadows of the trees.

“We will not be alone,” replied Celeborn. “Your Grandmother knows where they are. She has seen them and will act as our guide.”

“Are they alive?” came a duet of hopeful voices. 

Celeborn stood back and eyed them carefully. “They are alive, for the moment. But both are grievously injured in body and soul.” He watched Elrohir tense, almost turning to run into the caves, and then common sense took over and he stilled. Celeborn nodded faintly in approval as both sets of grey eyes looked to their grandfather trustingly.

“We must move quickly but we must move with care.” He put an arm about the shoulder of each twin and nodded for Haldir to accompany them.

“Let us move away from the entrance so that our voices do not carry the plan of attack to our enemies.”


	5. Chapter 5

A small group, lead by Haldir, stood ready at the entrance to the cave system while the main party took up position under cover of the trees. The tall, grey clad archer waited patiently for a signal from his lord.

“Are you certain this will work?” Elrohir whispered to his brother.

“Grandfather thinks so. The orcs will swarm out, chasing our smaller party, thinking them easy pickings. You know how stupid orcs can be.”

“They may be stupid but it takes very little brain to kill when you have no concern for your own safety,” Elrohir warned.

Even as he spoke, Celeborn must have given the signal, for Haldir and his group entered the cave, somewhat noisily for elves. For several minutes there was relative silence then a loud commotion announced the first contact. Shortly after that the elven hunting party flew from the cave, followed by a much larger force of orcs, screaming obscenities and waving crude weapons.

Elven archers, hidden among the trees, made short work picking off the enemy and only one of the warriors of Haldir’s group was seriously hurt in the short and unevenly balanced skirmish. Not that the elves felt any guilt for outnumbering this particular group of orcs. Once within the caves it would be they who were outnumbered and the orcs would give them no quarter.

Before the remaining enemies within could realise what was happening, the combined force of Imladris and Lothlorien elves crept silently into the cave system. Surrounded by the best sword masters of both elven enclaves, Celeborn spearheaded the group, whilst in a corner of his mind Galadriel whispered, her link to Vilya enabling her to direct him to their children.

They had been travelling for only a few minutes and had encountered limited resistance, when their ears were assailed by the screams of the wraith. Many would have turned and fled were it not for the Lord of the Golden Wood, holding them with his will but the same could not be said of the orcs, who ran in any direction that would take them away from the source of the piercing ululation. Unfortunately for them, that direction took many of them straight onto the waiting swords and bows of the elves, and serious battle was at last joined.

Leaving others to deal with the orcs, their grandfather signalled for the twins to join his smaller group as they travelled onward, deep into the mountain. At the entrance to what appeared to be a large, poorly lit chamber, Celeborn signalled a halt and turned to borrow bow and arrow from Haldir. He wrapped the tip of the arrow with an oil soaked rag and nocked it before signalling for them to follow him into the cave beyond.

Elven sight could make out only part of the content of the chamber for their eyes were unused to dealing with the full dark of cave, with no glimmer of starlight. That was soon remedied however, for Celeborn suddenly let loose his arrow, speaking it into flame as it flew at a portion of deeper shadow at the centre of the chamber.

The loud shriek of the wraith pierced the air once more and some dropped their weapons to clasp hands to sensitive ears in defence. Elves found themselves dodging as, robes ablaze, the creature careened about the chamber for some time before escaping down a passageway beyond. None of the company initiated any attempt to follow it for all knew that any weapons that they possessed would not avail them in its destruction. The best they could hope for was to inconvenience it for a while.

For a moment there was a stunned silence and then the twins elbowed their way through the others and ran to the bodies of their parents.

Elrohir cut the ropes binding his mother to rings in the floor, his tears beginning to flow as the full import of her injuries registered. One of Celeborn’s people spread his cloak on the floor and the twin laid his mother upon it. Bandages and salves were brought, along with water and torches and work began to stem the flow of Celebrian’s lifeblood. It was some time before Elrohir noticed that his silent helper was Celeborn.

Elladan knelt at his father’s side, helped by Haldir as he unbound and cleansed the chest wound, before applying salve and clean dressings. Although this had been the most serious injury initially the wraith had been clever enough to aid in its healing by keeping it clean and covered. The arm and shoulder however, it had left exposed for a purpose and Elladan swallowed against rising bile as he dressed wounds that had obviously been torn open over and over again and were now festering. Like his wife, Elrond had lost a great deal of blood and his heart struggled furiously to pump what was left around his failing body. Elladan could only hope that in his present weakened state his father’s fea would have energy enough to fight the poison and blood loss and still heal his wounds. 

0o0

The pain had reduced to a dull throbbing and nausea had receded to the point where he no longer felt that his stomach would forcibly expel anything put in it. Not that he had been given any option of trying out that idea and was quite grateful not to have to put his theory to the test. A soft feather filled mattress cradled his body and warm light blankets wrapped him in comfort.

Quiet voices murmured around Elrond. “I think he is awakening. Is the sleeping draught prepared?”

Was that the voice of Elladan? Another replied. Was it Elrohir?

“Yes. Be careful when you move him. Grandfather says the blood loss has put his heart under a strain and we may yet lose him if he is moved too suddenly.”

“Like Ammi. We nearly lost them both just getting them here. I am scared, Elladan. I had always thought that only mortals died. Oh, I know that we can die. I had just never really considered that it could happen to one of my own family. I cannot imagine being without him and Ammi,” Elrohir whispered. “Somehow, even knowing that we may meet in the halls of Mandos or beyond holds little comfort in the “Now”.”

“They will travel West one day and we may be without them then,” his brother pointed out. “Unless we go with them and I am not yet ready for that. There is still too much here that I want to see and do.”

“Indeed. There is a great deal that I want to see and do and it involves orcs and the Misty Mountains,” Elrohir announced darkly. “And if they go into the West, at least we know that we will meet them again someday. They are not gone from us forever.”

“They may not be gone forever, even if they went to the Halls of Mandos. They could be reborn,” Elladan suggested.

“It would not be the same. They would not be our Ammi and Ada.”

“Quiet now. Ada will hear you,” Elladan shushed his brother. “I think he is awake enough to take this. Grandfather says he will be in a great deal of pain and must remain quiet so you had better do it before he wakes too far.”

Gentle hands raised Elrond’s head and a warm liquid was trickled into his mouth. However, even this careful movement brought a resurgence of the nausea and pain and after he had swallowed the herbal tea he moaned, trying to ask them to let him lie down again. They seemed to understand and his swimming head was returned to the nest of pillows.

For some time Elrond lay still, trying to determine whether his stomach would retain the liquid he had been given and attempting to make sense of the words that had been spoken. It seemed strange to him that he could hear them perfectly clearly but their meaning kept slipping away, however hard he tried to concentrate. 

He must have slept for when Elrond next became aware both pain and nausea were almost gone. He blinked, trying to bring his eyes into focus on the dark, richly carved beams of a ceiling; his bedroom ceiling. He was home. They were both home. 

That thought suddenly brought him upright in his bed. Celebrian?

Even as he tried to form her name with his lips the room began to spin and a pounding grew in his head. Hands caught and supported him, then lowered him slowly back into the mattress, his weak struggles to stay upright ignored.

“Celebrian?” His voice was no more than a horse whisper.

Elladan’s face swam into view, a cup was held to Elrond’s lips and he swallowed the cool water gratefully.

“Ammi is in her room. Grandfather is with her.”

“How is she?”

“She is hurt, Ada. So hurt and . . . ” Celebrian’s son swallowed back a lump in his throat. “The babe is lost.”

Elrond’s soul was a place of ashes and dust. “I know.”

He tried to reach out to touch his love’s heart in comfort but was met with a blank wall and in confusion he searched again. She was not dead. He could hear her heartbeat. He knew it as well as his own, although it moved too fast now. He knew the smell of her soul, like a freshly unfurled rose on a summer evening. His heart inhaled the fragrance of her but when he tried to move deeper he was pushed firmly back. Her soul was locked away from him.

Elladan watched his father’s eyes grow distant, saw the smooth brow furrow in confusion and knew what was happening. When Elrond’s eyes refocused on his surroundings his son was already holding out a robe and he helped his father rise without protest. 

His body still battling with blood loss and poison, Elrond had to lean heavily upon his son as they walked to Celebrian’s room, but Elladan would not have dreamed of attempting to stop him. Elrond would have crawled there on hands and knees if he had to.

When they reached the bedroom Celeborn had already set another chair at the bedside and Elrohir ran to help his father into it. Elladan did not know how his grandfather knew of Elrond’s imminent arrival and Elrond did not care. Elrond sat down heavily and stared at the figure, pale and still as death, in the bed.

0o0

“Look at me!” Her Ammi looked so strange, upside down.

Knees locked over one of the lower branches of the huge tree, Celebrian swung, watching her hair sweep the tiny Eleanor flowers. She sensed, rather than heard, her mother’s soft voice.

“You will make yourself dizzy.”

“No I will not. I have done this lots of times,” the tiny elleth contradicted with all the confidence of the very young. Of course she had been dizzy in the past but this time would be different.

Swinging her supple body upward, Celebrian grasped the branch with both hands and then spun herself forewords and up until she was sitting on it. The dizziness struck immediately and she fell, giggling, into her mother’s waiting arms. Ammi smiled and shook her head and Celebrian nestled comfortably against her shoulder.

“Whatever am I going to do with you Celebrian?” Galadriel smoothed the long silver hair.

0o0

Elrond stretched out a shaking hand to touch the ragged remains of the bright silver veil that had been his wife’s hair. Tears spilled over and ran, unchecked, down his cheeks and Elrohir sought his brother’s hand for support. Never before had either of them seen their father cry.

Celeborn looked up from the other side of the bed, where he held his daughter’s hand. “She has withdrawn from us and walks among the happier places of her childhood.”

His son by marriage looked across at him and lightening flared in the depths of storm grey eyes. “And whose fault is that? How can you dare to sit here as though you cared what happened to her? I could have stopped it. But you and Galadriel forbade it. All for the sake of a ridiculous piece of jewellery.”

It seemed to Elrond that his whole life had revolved around jewels and this was too much. He stood on trembling legs and yanked at the sapphire ring on his right hand, finally managing to dislodge and fling it upon the rose embroidered counterpane between them. “Take it and get out. Entrust it to some other idiot.” 

His breathing became ragged and he threw back a hand to steady himself against the chair back as his heart began to hammer in his chest. “This is your doing. And all for the sake of our people’s greed for power!” A wave of heat engulfed him and Elrond started to pitch forward but hands caught him, just before he fell into blackness.

0o0

Elrond noted a pallor in Frodo’s features. “I am sorry, Frodo. Perhaps I should not continue. This is not a pretty tale.”

“No . . . no. I want to hear your story. I would like to understand you better. After all, you will be one of the few people I actually know when we reach the West. I am just a little tired, I think. I am sorry.”

“Then perhaps you should rest before you hear more. Allow me to escort you to your cabin.” The elf rose and helped Frodo down from his chair.

“I would like to hear the end of your story. Would you do me the honour of sharing supper with me tonight and then you can continue?” Frodo asked timidly.

Elrond bowed. “I shall be honoured, in turn, to join you.”


	6. Chapter 6

As the sun sank ahead of them Elrond arrived at Frodo’s cabin, once more carrying a tray. He was welcomed warmly and, once they had eaten their fill, Frodo settled back in his chair and began to fill his pipe.

Elrond placed the tray outside the door and returned as Frodo lit up. “Are you certain you wish me to continue the tale? It is not the prettiest of after dinner stories.”

Frodo nodded. “I would like to hear it in full if you feel you are able to continue.”

Elrond only nodded and resumed his narrative. 

oOo. 

Arwen and her escort arrived in the early evening, to be met in the courtyard by her brothers; the three of them forming a sobbing huddle in the moonlight for some minutes. The twins took her straight to their mother’s room.

Her heart faltered when she saw them . . . Ammi and Ada.

Ammi lay still and silent, her silver blue eyes focussed upon distant dreams that she would allow none to enter. What was left of her hair formed a jagged halo about her face. Ada sat equally still and silent, his cloud grey eyes focussed upon his wife’s face, searching for the tiniest flicker that would announce her return to this world.

Grandfather Celeborn sat reading at the other side of the bed, pointedly ignored by Elrond. Celeborn looked up at Arwen’s entrance and smiled but her Ada did not seem to be aware of anything but his wife.

She ran across the room, throwing herself on her knees at the bedside and Celeborn laid a comforting hand on her back as she claimed her mother’s hand. For long moments she sobbed, her brow resting upon their joined hands and her grandfather’s gentle touch smoothing her hair. After a while however, her tears slowed and she looked across the wide gulf of the bed at her father. He did not seem to even know she was there. Arwen wanted to feel the arms of Ada enfolding her; his rich voice assuring her that everything would be alright. But he was shuttered against her. When Arwen shot a questioning look at her grandfather his voice dropped clear in her mind.

“He will not leave her. He needs to rest and eat and he should to be reminded that he has a duty is to the rest of his family.” Arwen’s grandfather sent out a soft tendril of comfort, wrapping about her, and she accepted it gratefully. “I will remain with your Ammi. Go. Take him and remind him that he is father as well as husband.”

Arwen rounded the bed and knelt at her father’s side, laying a hand upon his knee. “Ada? Please, Ada. You will not recover if you do not rest and take some nourishment. Let me get you something to eat and Grandfather will stay with Ammi.”

Elrond blinked and looked down, noticing her for the first time. “Arwen?” When did you arrive?” Realisation dawned. “How did you get here? You should have stayed in Lothlorien. The journey was not safe to make.” His eyes returned to the bed and then across to Celeborn.

“Your grandmother should not have allowed you to travel,” he stated firmly, his eyes glittering at the Lord of Lothlorien. Celeborn only returned his gaze levelly, allowing him his anger and making no response. 

Arwen tried to bring peace to the storm she saw gathering in her father’s eyes. “Ada. I am old enough to make my own decisions on such things. I wanted to be with my family. We need to be together. I am safe and I am well.” She laid a hand upon her father’s cheek, turning his face to look at her once more. “Which is more than I can say for you. You are tired and they tell me you have been very ill. Come, sit with me and we can share a supper. It has been a long journey and I did not pause to eat before I came to see you. Grandfather will let us know if Ammi wakes up.” In truth Arwen was no more hungry than he but she hoped to touch his conscience thus. Standing, she put a hand under his elbow, tugging lightly. “Please, Ada.”

At the door, the twins took a step forward. “Ada?”

With a final glance at the bed, Elrond allowed himself to be guided from the room by his children.

oOo

Arwen handed her father his refilled cup of mint tea and poured one for herself. She and the twins had brought him here, to the small private sitting room between their parent’s bedrooms. Sitting in her mother’s armchair felt uncomfortable but her father had gone automatically to his and the only other chair available by the fireplace was Ammi’s. The twins were perched silent upon the window seat, nursing untouched teacups. 

The only voice heard in the room for the past hour had been Arwen’s, as she coaxed her father into eating some grapes and a little bread and cheese. Elrond had been silent throughout and now he sat, staring into the fire over the rim of his cup. Celebrian had retreated into happier memories of childhood. Where Elrond walked, Arwen did not wish to consider. The only outward difference between the couple was that Celebrian lay in her bed and Elrond walked about. So wrapped up in his own grief was he that he seemed to be totally unaware of that of his children.

Arwen set down her cooling, untouched cup of mint tea. “Adar?”

Golden firelight reflected in his grey eyes but Elrond did not seem to see or hear his daughter.

Ada . . . please.” Tears began to slide down Arwen’s face and a soft sob escaped her lips. It was that sound which finally made Elrond blink and turn to look at his daughter, confusion written in his features when he saw the tears.

“Ada. I am frightened and so alone. What will you do if Ammi never comes back to us? I could not bear to lose you both.”

Elrond lowered his cup and looked around the room, as if aware for the first time that he was not alone and taking in the scene of his sons with tears rolling silently down their faces. Life began to filter back into Elrond’s heart . . . drop by drop . . . with his children’s tears.

“Please do not go with her,” Arwen pleaded. 

The twins stood as one. “Come back to us, Ada. We need you.”

Their anguished plea broke the ice encasing his heart as nothing else could, freeing it at last from the shadow’s icy grip. He held out an arm to his daughter and within a heartbeat, Arwen covered the distance between them and fell sobbing, into his lap, burying her face in the raven fall of his familiarly scented hair. The twins crowded in close too and he held them until they had all run out of tears to cry.

0o0

Celebrian drew aside the curtain of willow branches, stepping through to the sun dappled privacy of her secret glade, and drew up sharply.

On the bench at it’s centre sat another elf. His back was to her but she did not recognise the long dark hair that hung almost to his waist, casting back the glint of the sun in auburn highlights. And, instead of the grey that Amdir’s people habitually wore, his robe was the deepest blue of a summer night.

Her naked feet made hardly a whisper of sound on the soft grass but he turned his head to look over one shoulder, setting aside his book and standing to bow when his eyes confirmed the presence that his ears had already sensed.

When he straightened, Celebrian found that she was level with eyes the colour of summer rain clouds. They should have been soft but some hurt had shuttered them and she could get no sense of any of the emotions that may have been swirling beyond. The heart of the Celebrian that would rescue any hurt creature that crossed her path was captured at that moment. 

“Good day, Lady Celebrian.” His voice was perfectly modulated but its formal tone revealed no hint of the emotion that should have given it life. He spoke again, and this time the tone was softer, a hint of pleading in it.

“Celebrian? Please, my love . . .”

She stepped back in confusion. This was not the way it was; not the way it had happened. The voice broke, a sob choking its perfect pitch.

“Celebrian, please do not leave me alone again. I do not think that I can bear to be alone again.” 

This was definitely not correct. She pushed it away and started the dream again.

He turned his head; perfect profile outlined against the willow branches beyond, and set down his book. Standing, he turned and bowed.

“Good day, Lady Celebrian.” His eyes were shuttered against her and her heart reached out to the hurt he hid within. Suddenly his eyes changed, filled with tears as the hurt grew very evident, and his voice was husky with pain.

“Please, my love. Come back to me.”

Celebrian closed her eyes and tried to turn away but when she opened them again she was looking into rain grey eyes. Raindrops were falling on her cheeks and she reached up to brush them away, realising even as she touched them, that it was not rain but tears . . . his tears.

“Elrond?” She was glad to have awoken from the terrible dream of orcs and shadows. Celebrian’s voice was barely more than a whisper but she could tell that he heard her, for the flow of his tears increased and he had to swallow before he could answer.

“Yes, my love. I am here and you are safe in our home.”

“Safe?” Why would she not be safe? And why was Elrond crying? For a moment she was confused and instinctively reached down to reassure the tiny child in her belly.

Nothing.

There was no heartbeat tripping softly in her ears, nor any flutter of movement beneath her questing fingertips. There was only a sore and empty space.

Eyes . . . an evil parody of eyes . . . large and yellow with a black slitted pupils. A mouth, thin lips drawn back over black crooked teeth and the rancid smell of rotting flesh as something thrust deep within her, over and over again. Sharp, ragged nails scratching across her skin, leaving a trail of fire.

A scream ripped from her throat and she pulled away. Claws grabbed her, restraining and confining and she struggled, her fingers reaching up and raking across yielding flesh, arms and legs flailing, desperate to be free. 

Words were shouted and suddenly she was released. Turning onto her side, Celebrian curled into a tight ball and shut out the world once more.

Elrond leaned back against Celeborn’s chest; not caring for the moment who comforted him, feeling the pressure of a damp cloth against the deep scratches on his cheek. The shattered pieces of his heart, which for a moment had begun to knit, flew apart once more as he watched Celebrian’s movements slow. She lay in the centre of the bed, curled into a tiny ball like a babe in the womb . . . like the tiny babe she had expelled from her womb only days before.

Elrond tried to reach into her mind to comfort her but it was still walled tightly against him.

0o0

Elrond winced as his daughter dabbed at his cheek with the cool cloth. Satisfied that the bleeding appeared to have stopped, she applied ointment and his healer’s senses recognised the smell of calendula.

“Ada . . . Will Ammi get better?”

Her father was silent for a moment, staring out of the window at a spring shower. Celebrian’s physical hurts were mending but there was more than physical hurt here. Should he try to dissemble? Arwen was still so young, too young to have to deal with this situation. And yet it would be cruel to give her false hope and then dash it later. 

As a father, Elrond wished he had the ability to spare her such pain. He had gone through too much in his own youth and had strived to protect all his children from hurt such as he had suffered for as long as he could. But the bitter truth of the world had finally intruded upon their idyll.

“I do not know, child. I wish that I did.” He looked up as tears began to gather in her eyes and reached out to squeeze Arwen’s hand as she wiped it on a towel, standing to gather her into his arms as her tears spilled over.

“We will do what we can,” he murmured, as he stroked her slender back. For a long time his daughter leaned into Elrond’s embrace, comforted by the strong protection of his arms. But now she came to the realisation that Ada could not protect them from everything; that there were things stronger than he and not all of them were good. At that moment Arwen felt herself age a hundred years. She took a shuddering breath and squared her shoulders, leaning back a little to look into his tired eyes.

“Can I help? I cannot bear to be sitting here, doing nothing.”

Elrond brushed tears from her face with his thumbs. “Actually I believe you may be the only one who can help. She cannot tolerate my touch at present.” The words seared his throat on their way out, his heart remembering how Celebrian used always seek out the touch of his hand. The way she would take it when they walked together or slip her fingers into his beneath the table at a formal banquet.

Arwen swallowed hard, shutting out the horrifying pictures that beat with dark wings against her imagination. “I will do whatever Ammi needs to be done.”

Her father hugged her again, stroking her hair, knowing that a road had forked and that Arwen had taken the path that would mean that never again would she be a child. That she was now an adult was something to be celebrated, but the reason for the change brought only more grief to Elrond’s heart.

0o0

 

Elrond watched approvingly, handing his daughter supplies as she re-dressed her mother’s wounds. Like Elrond’s, most of them had healed, but for pale scars that would fade with time, but some were deeper . . . one on her arm being particularly troublesome for it had been poisoned.

Arwen’s touch was gentle and deft and Celebrian stirred little under her ministrations. When Elrond had tried to stroke his wife’s hand, however, she had moaned and pulled away, aware even in her sleep, that she was being touched by a male. He folded his arms, tucking hands within the sleeves of his robe. It was a wonder that Celeborn had been able to put the sutures in, but then Celebrian seemed to recognise and tolerate her father’s touch . . . while she shrank away from that of her husband.

“Leave those last three sutures . . . the flesh is not yet sufficiently knit,” Elrond instructed, managing by great force of will to keep the quaver out of his voice. Arwen put down the scissors and applied salve to the wound before wrapping the last bandage and tying it off neatly.


	7. Chapter 7

Arwen led her mother slowly onto the terrace and eased her onto the couch Elrond had lovingly arranged. A mound of cushions was carefully placed to support and soft blankets were folded ready to cover her legs; not that Elrond was standing anywhere near the couch at the moment. He sat a safe distance away, watching sadly as he slowly twisted the gold wedding band upon his finger.

Although Celebrian walked and ate, after her brief foray she retreated to a world of dreams, behind walls that none could breach. Even Celeborn and Galadriel had been unable to reach her. But she still knew a male touch and would recoil violently from it, even the tender and loving touch of her husband.

Once she had her mother settled Arwen hugged her father briefly and returned to the house. Elrond watched his wife wistfully for a moment and then picked up his book.

It was only a few minutes later that he sensed something, some change. Still wary of disturbing Celebrian Elrond stood and slipped softly across the terrace to bend over his wife. He felt something; like a sleeper’s first gentle stirrings. 

0o0

As she drew aside the hanging trail of willow branches, Celebrian saw him.

Dark hair fell down his straight back in a perfectly ordered shining black curtain, a contrast against the richly figured brocade of his robe. When he heard her he turned and set down his book, standing to bow.

“Good day, Lady Celebrian,” he stated, calmly.

She looked straight across into rain grey eyes . . . no . . . she looked up into rain grey eyes. Celebrian blinked. That was not right. She blinked again but she still looked ‘up’ into his eyes.

Elrond waited, his breath held for what seemed like an eternity. Celebrian blinked again and silver blue eyes began to focus on his for the first time in many days.

“Celebrian?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, hardly daring to expect a reply and worried of her reaction to his presence.

“Elrond?” Her own voice was also thin, but with long disuse rather than fear.

He smiled, the muscles of his face struggling to remember the necessary order of movement to do so. Reaching down, he placed a gentle hand upon hers and drew back as though scalded when Celebrian snatched hers away.

Celebrian was confused. A part of her wanted to welcome his touch but as soon as she felt it her emotions screamed danger, anger, fear and disgust and she snatched her hand away before she had time to analyse the reaction. 

Celebrian looked about her. She was on the terrace outside their private apartments, and had no recollection of how she had arrived there. An empty chair, open book lying on the seat, showed where Elrond had been sitting.

“How did we get here? What day is it?”

Taking a deep breath she brought her body under her control once more and settled her hands in her lap while Elrond turned to fill a glass with cordial and pass it to her. She accepted it gratefully, her hand shaking a little, fingers avoiding her husband’s as he handed it over. Resuming his seat Elrond paused to bring his own body into line before answering. 

“Your father and the twins came for us. You have been ill for several days but your body is healing now.”

“Ill? I do not . . .” Memory rolled in like a tide, threatening to overwhelm her and she whimpered and closed her eyes against the onslaught. She was unaware of Elrond rescuing her glass as it slipped from her fingers. Celebrian fought her emotions for several moments, pushing back wave upon wave of vile images and feelings; netting them about and locking them away behind barricades. Finally she took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes.

Elrond stood at her side, her glass still gripped in his hand. Every taut line of his body showed that he wanted to hold and comfort her but he held himself in check, silently offering the glass once more. He resumed his seat, pouring a glass of cordial for himself and vainly trying to hide the trembling of his hands.

Sipping her drink slowly, Celebrian sorted through less traumatic images, sifting through vague memories of more recent days. Her daughter’s face, brow creased with worry, floated to the forefront of her mind. “Arwen was here?”

“She followed Celeborn and arrived here only days after we did,” Elrond supplied. He refilled his wife’s glass, noting that her hand too, was still trembling and careful to avoid touching it. 

Concern suddenly flashed across her face. “You were hurt!”

Elrond raised a hand to forestall any further worry. “I am recovered.” In truth, the shoulder wound that the wraith had abused was proving difficult but he wore only a light dressing upon it now.

She lowered her glass, a sudden weariness evident in her eyes, and Elrond relieved her of it.

“You should rest, my love. I will fetch Arwen to help you.” He crossed the terrace swiftly and claimed the dark sanctuary of his study.

Once out of sight, beyond the threshold, Elrond leaned his back against the wall and struggled with the heartache that filled him to the point of overflowing. Any initial thrill at Celebrian’s awakening was drowned in the pool of sorrow that filled his soul as the truth that he had been hiding from arose to overpower it. Celebrian was awake, but his wife was not returned to him and possibly never would be.

His heart began to keen in mourning but he turned his back resolutely upon the grief. Celebrian needed his help. The children needed him. Imladris needed him. Middle earth needed him. So many people needed him . . .but what of Elrond’s needs? He swallowed the question guiltily and straightened his shoulders as he left to find his daughter.

0o0

“I think that is sufficient for the moment, Frodo.” 

The Ringbearer blinked, and brushed away a tear, noticing that the sun had set and Ithil was poking soft silver fingers through his cabin porthole. He shook himself mentally and cleared his throat.

“Oh, Lord Elrond. How can you bear it?”

“You, of all people, know the answer to that,” Elrond replied sadly.

Frodo nodded. “ Thank you for sharing your tale. I know it must be difficult for you.” 

Elrond only nodded as he lifted the tray from the bedside. “If you wish to continue the tale tomorrow you know where I may be found.” With that he left silently.

0o0

As it happened, Frodo got no opportunity to seek out Elrond until after the noon bell. During the early watches the wind freshened and he spent an almost sleepless night clinging to his bunk in fear of being tipped out. With the arrival of dawn the swell had not lessened and he kept to his cabin, his stomach rebelling at the very thought of food. His cabin attendant told him that being able to see the horizon often helped in these cases so at noon Frodo decided to try taking a turn on deck. 

The same wind that was playing such havoc with the movement of the sea was also pleasantly cooling on his feverish face as Frodo clambered on to the deck, although he had to confess that seeing the horizon did not make him feel all that much better.

Frodo found the Lord of Imladris in his customary place, at the rail of the ship, looking out to sea. He did not turn to look at the hobbit but Elrond’s voice was carried back on the breeze.

“Good afternoon, Frodo. Are you recovered?”

Used by now to the fact that elves could hear him even when he stepped as lightly as he could, Frodo showed no surprise and simply staggered across the rolling deck towards the elf. 

“Good afternoon, Lord Elrond. Well enough. Thank you.”

Elrond turn to look down at the Ringbearer. He was pale . . . verging upon green. It was apparent from the dark circles around dull eyes that he had not slept well at all and his tiny hands gripped the lower rail so tightly that the knuckles were white. Elrond hunkered down before him.

“Did you think to put me off with that reply?”

Frodo smiled ruefully. “I had hoped that if I made light of it you would continue to tell me your story. In truth, I did not sleep well as I cannot get used to this rolling movement. Rivers are one thing but hobbits are not made for sea voyages.”

Elrond echoed his smile. “I noted that your uncle was not at breakfast today. I prescribed something for his nausea and I can do the same for you. But I think you would probably feel better lying down. Come . . .” He led the way back down to Frodo’s cabin, offering a steadying hand when the pitch of the ship became too pronounced.

Within a little while Frodo was tucked up in his bunk, sipping a sweet mint flavoured concoction that soothed as soon as it touched his stomach. He smiled up gratefully at the healer.

Elrond stoppered the bottle he had brought and accepted the empty cup, watching as Frodo settled down into his pillows. “I suggest you rest for the remainder of the day. I will arrange for a tray of light food to be sent to you later."” He turned to leave but Frodo stopped him.

“You said you would continue your story today,” he said, disappointedly.

Turning, Elrond considered his patient. “I think it would be better if you rested.”

“I am resting. I am not sleepy and it will drive me mad to just lie here and stare at the ceiling. It will be much more restful to have someone to listen to. Please?”

A little colour had returned to Frodo’s cheeks and Elrond had always the ability to push him into sleep if necessary. He pocketed the little bottle of medicine and pulled up a chair to the bedside. “Very well. But I reserve the right to stop if I deem it too stressful for you.”

Frodo delved a little deeper into the warmth and comfort of his bunk, happier now that his stomach had stopped roiling. “Agreed.”

0o0

His eyes aching, Elrond tried once more to check the column of figures before him. It was the third time he had started, and each time he had found himself, pen poised at the bottom of the list with no idea what the total was or what had distracted him. His mind seemed to wander in vague circles these days, unable to settle upon anything for more than a few minutes. He no longer went to the library, for he would reach the end of a book and be unable to recall anything that he had just read.

A familiar presence impinged upon his soul and he looked up as the door opened, automatically sending out a soft tendril of welcome to Celebrian. Its rejection landed like a shock of ice water on his soul. She was still shuttered away from him; from everyone.

Celebrian stepped hesitantly into his study, hovering uncertainly near the open door. “I am sorry to disturb you. Do you know where I may find Arwen?”

“She has gone with the twins as escort to your father. They only plan to ride as far as the borders of the valley but will not return until late this evening.”

His wife’s face fell and she bit her lip, holding her arm against her side. 

Elrond rose in concern. “Is something wrong?”

Celebrian froze at the sudden movement, reminding her husband of a doe poised to flee and he remained perfectly still behind his desk, watching emotions chase across her face. Fear . . . discomfort . . . resignation and then determination.

“The bandage. It has come loose and I cannot manage it by myself,” Celebrian admitted. She paused, gathering her courage before continuing. “Can . . . can you see to it for me?”

Not trusting himself to speak and only able to guess what that question had cost her, Elrond nodded and indicated a chair by the fire. She hesitated and then sat down and began to unlace her gown, sliding it down to reveal a bandage on her upper arm that was clearly unravelling.

Her husband collected salve and fresh bandages from his surgery and approached her, slowly and outwardly calm, trying to maintain a detached healer’s demeanour when she flinched as he touched the arm. He paused for a moment; waiting and she took a deep breath and nodded for him to continue.

Elrond worked as quickly as possible, burying his emotions and trying to tell himself that this was just another patient, although his heart cried out in recognition of the soft rose perfume of her. For her part, Celebrian stared straight ahead, breathing through clenched teeth, body held stiff and tense. Her emotions were shrieking too loudly at the touch of a male to enable her to recognise any other thing about him.

When the work was finished Celebrian relaced her gown and Elrond stepped back, collecting the old bandages and putting away the salve. No words had been exchanged during the entire procedure but now Celebrian took a deep breath.

“Thank you. I am sorry for my reaction.”

Elrond turned in surprise. “You have no need to be sorry my love. I know what you went through.”

Ice blue eyes speared him and Elrond recoiled. “You “saw” what I went through but you cannot “know” what I went through. No male could.”

Releasing himself from her gaze, Elrond took his chair opposite her and clasped his hands in his lap, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. “You are correct, and yet I believe I know more than you think. We are joined, you and I. When they violated you, they violated both of us.”

Making a final adjustment to her gown, Celebrian looked up but the ice was still evident. “Then why did you not tell them what they wanted to know.” Her eyes fell to his hand, where Vilya had been returned to its home while he was unconscious. 

Taking a deep breath he tried to explain. “For a moment I wanted to but I could not.” He stopped, hoping that she would delve no deeper but she would not be put off now, having gathered the courage to broach the subject.

“What do you mean; you “could” not?”

Elrond had considered long and hard in the days since the event. At first he had been furious with Celeborn and Galadriel. They had manipulated him and seemed to have abandoned their only daughter. Then he had considered again. Not only where they correct in putting the whole of Middle earth before their own child, but Elrond was not entirely sure that even he would not have held back at the last moment. Duty was too strongly instilled within his soul.

“I love you more than my life,” he replied carefully. “But this matter concerned more than just our lives.”

Celebrian bristled. “And so, as always, you put your duty first. Would you put it before Arwen’s life or the twins? You certainly put it before Tasare’s.”

Elrond blinked in confusion. “Tasare?”

Silver blue eyes flashed dangerously again. “Your daughter.”

The room grew suddenly cold. After the initial agony of loss it had been easier for Elrond not to consider the child as a person. By giving her a name, Celebrian had suddenly labelled the large knot of grief in his soul and it sprang apart to lash him afresh. It took all his effort to bundle it up again. Perhaps he could deal with it later.

“I am what I have been chosen to be. I am a ringbearer and I must be that before all else. You knew that when you bound yourself to me. I could wish that it were otherwise, but that would not make it so. The fate of many rests in my hands and by doing what I did I may yet have saved our children from the enemy.”

“Three of them only and you could have as easily saved them by putting them on a ship. But, of course, you have to protect your precious ring. The thing that keeps you tied to this shadow filled land.”

A spark of anger flickered around the edges of Elrond’s reply. “Our children are old enough to make their own decisions on whether to stay or to go. And it is not my ring. A ring of power chooses its bearer and I am only it’s custodian for a while. By protecting the ring I have protected my children and the children of others, many of whom do not have the option of leaving Middle earth.” 

Inwardly his heart was breaking. He longed to take her in his arms and share the grief, but at his slightest move he knew she would flee, the startled doe once more. He could think of no more wise words to say and fell back on the phrase that he seemed to be using so often nowadays.

“I am sorry, my love.”

Celebrian said nothing, only treating him to a look of complete disdain before she rose and left the room, without a backward glance.

Elrond dropped his pounding head in his hands feeling that he did not deserve to even claim the luxury of the tears that gathered behind his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

She found him in his favourite place, sitting on a bench, hidden from the path by a screen of hawthorn, and Celebrian slipped behind him silently. It had been a long and challenging walk for her. Although the poison had been purged from her wound it still left her feeling weak and prone to a slight fever when tired.

Elrond was staring out across the valley towards one of the many waterfalls. His hands rested, palms uppermost in his lap as though holding a bowl. It was a position well known to Celebrian and one that he often assumed when unhappy. Over the long years they had shared she had come to call it his, “cup of sorrows” pose.

He started as she settled at the opposite end of the bench. He must have been lost in thought indeed if he had not sensed her approach and Celebrian waited while he regained his composure, something so important to him. When he had done so he smiled faintly.

“How are you today?” His voice was so comfortably familiar and yet, strange. She remembered the warmth that had filled it once, the way it had softened whenever he spoke to her. Now it held the formal tone of a healer, and at the same time it was uncertain, as though fearful of her reaction to his words.

“I feel much better today.” Celebrian tried on her smile for the first time in a long while. It did not seem to fit her properly yet but she persisted, and was rewarded by a small, slightly wistful, answering curve of her husband’s lips. He was not easily fooled in matters of healing but he knew better than to force the issue with her. His face grew serious and he turned away to stare at the waterfall once more. 

Celebrian had almost forgotten how much the valley and the elf were one. She could hear the voice of the one in the other.

“I have missed you,” the distant falls whispered.

“And I you,” her voice replied, only a moment behind her thought.

Elrond turned to look at her again, mind filled with questions. His body felt as though it had become a part of the stone bench, frozen. Yet his emotions were screaming to gather her into his arms and cling to her.

Celebrian watched him struggle. She had pushed him away for so long that his body had learned the response and held him captive. And still, even sitting this far apart, Celebrian had to fight her emotions too. Her mind told her he was a safe haven and her body longed to feel the comfort of his strong arms about her but emotion trapped her into immobility. Touch was linked with too much emotional and physical pain; with too many other sets of clawed hands.

And so they sat, either end of the stone bench, each afraid to move toward the other.

Unable to bear the agony and longing in his eyes any longer, Celebrian lowered her gaze, surprised to find her hands trembling in her lap, palms upward . . . a cup of sorrows.

She too turned to stare out across the valley to the distant falls, a river of tears wearing away at the bedrock of her life.

0o0

Firelight glinted in the silver threads of her hair. Shorter now, it fell about her face and across her shoulders in soft curls. Elrond had never seen it thus, the weight of its longer length always having dragged it to a straight shimmering curtain before. 

A tear slid down her face and splashed upon the page of the open book in her lap and Celebrian blotted it absently with the cuff of her dress, oblivious to the ink stain it caused on the delicately beaded fabric. The volume had been open at the same page for some time but she could not have told anyone what was written there for her eyes and thoughts were focussed far away.

Elrond waited several minutes for her to acknowledge his presence but when she did not he took the chair at the other side of the hearth. Each evening, for all the years of their married life, they had sat thus, except for the past year. Tonight was the first that he had found Celebrian in her chair since they had returned and he had thought, initially, that he was dreaming. Celebrian blinked, sensing another presence at last, and looked across into the rain shadowed eyes.

“I have been waiting for you for several hours.”

Elrond’s reply was a deep well of sadness. “I have been waiting for you for several months.” The words would have stung were it not for the hollow echo of pain they contained.

“I could not find my way. I was lost.” Celebrian closed the book, not bothering to mark the page, and set it aside.

“I know. I have been following you, calling your name for a long time,” he replied, “but you would not turn around.”

Celebrian’s hand reached out, almost of its own volition. “I am here. Show me the way home.”

Her husband rose slowly, drawn to the outstretched fingers, his own lifted to greet them. He paused for a moment, their fingertips not quite touching, prepared for her to flee.

Celebrian waited, mind warring with emotions even now. Emotion made her want to snatch her hand away from the touch of a male but her will held it frozen for her husband. She gasped at the electric sensation of fingertips touching hers and clamped down hard on the panic that rose within her. The touch came again and she watched as his long fingers curled lightly about hers.

Elrond searched her face, still unable to breach the walls around her soul, and yet cognisant of the turmoil within. Sinking to the rug he simply held the proffered hand in one of his, not daring to make any other contact. It was a beginning and he would remain at her feet thus for as long as she needed him. It was more than he had dared to hope for in these long months.

0o0

Celebrian sat on the terrace in the glory of a sunny summer day and watched the comings and goings of the household in the rose garden below.

She had left the shadows of her room, feeling content for the first time since . . . She shut the unfinished thought away. She would not allow a cloud to mar this beautiful day. And yet even as she watched the clouds gathered in her soul.

Celebrian had grown up listening to the pure elven music of the trees and souls about her. When her husband had brought her to Imladris she had at once been entranced by the music of the deep valley. Like her husband, it was a fascinating blend of elven and mortal but there were also strands of all the other free folk woven within it. Elrond had opened his home to any who needed refuge and each had left a little of themselves within its great symphony, creating a music that was by turns stately and merry, complex and simple, with all the shades between. 

Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir sat in the garden below but they had not noticed their mother where she sat, a little way back from the balustrade. The twins had brought lutes and all about them were strewn sheets of music. Celebrian had settled back in eager anticipation of hearing her children’s voices raised in song once more but several hours had passed and no song had come.

They sat, conversing in muted tones. Sometimes one of the twins would lift his instrument and begin to tune it only to set it down a few minutes later, unfinished. Arwen had sung a few lines of an ancient love song and then her voice had trailed away and they had returned to their murmured conversation. All three occasionally shuffled the sheets of music but their actions were listless.

Celebrian let her eyes rove about the garden. Beneath a tree two of her household sat. She knew that they had been betrothed for several months, the slender silver rings still glinted upon their fingers, waiting to be exchanged for gold. Normally their hands would be intertwined, their faces filled with light as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Now they sat side by side, not touching; talking in a desultory and stilted manner. 

Occasionally other members of the household would walk the garden on some errand and on other days this would have resulted in the calling of greetings or a bright exchange of jibes. But now they crossed in silence, intent only upon their goal.

Pulling back her inner walls, just a little, Celebrian listened to the music of the valley about her. The symphony was still there but it had turned to a minor key, laced with a mournful melody and brimming with a pain of loss that brought tears to her eyes and made her fling up the barricades once more.

The valley and the elf were one.

Celebrian turned and staggered back to the quiet sanctuary of her room.

0o0

Their hands met as they pushed the last of the soil about the sapling. Celebrian froze, but recovered in time not to pull away and Elrond pretended that nothing was amiss. The willow had no leaves now but in the spring it would unfurl pale green buds and in the years to come it would grow to shelter the stone bench that stood a little way off. It would be nourished by the stream at its side and by the power of the two elves who now rose and brushed the rich loam from their hands.

Tasare was gone, taking with her a piece of each of them, but the tree for which she was named would at least preserve the memory that she had once existed. 

Elrond and Celebrian looked down at the tiny promise of new life and then turned together and walked back down the path to the house, lost in their shared grief. As they entered the garden Elrond could see that his wife was tiring and turned, leading them through the hawthorn hedge to the stone bench looking out towards the falls. They sat, side by side but not touching.

Elrond turned. “I am sorry.”

Celebrian frowned. “Sorry?”

“I am sorry that they hurt you. I am sorry . . . I am sorry that I did not stop them.” He swallowed and dropped his head. “I am sorry that I let our child die.”

“I know.” Celebrian surprised herself by squeezing his hand briefly and then she looked out across his valley. “And I am sorry that I blamed you for so long. If you had surrendered, all our children and much else that is precious of Middle earth would have been lost. I needed someone to blame but now I acknowledge that Tasare’s death is upon my hands. It was I who abandoned her.”

It seemed to Elrond that for a moment the world paused and he gasped in surprise. The tiny sound made Celebrian turn in time to see shock in his face; shock that turned to disbelief and then concern.

“You believe Willow’s death was your fault?”

“Of course it was my fault. I could have remained with her, supported her. But I ran away.”

Elrond reached out quickly to grasp her hands and she flinched away, her body reacting too fast for her distracted mind to prevent it. He lowered his hands carefully in his lap and schooled himself to stillness.

“If her death was not my fault it was certainly not yours. The enemy killed her, not us.” His voice was now a clear calm pool. “She was not strong enough to withstand such physical abuse.” He reached across more slowly this time and managed to net Celebrian’s hands lightly. “And neither was her mother. We both did all that we could for our daughter.”

Tears ran down Celebrian’s face and she leaned towards him, resting her body lightly against her husband’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and noting it pick up speed. “Hold me. Please,” she whispered

Elrond released her hands and wrapped his arms slowly and tenderly about her body, tucking her head beneath his chin. At first she was tense, but when she realised that he would remain still, thus, Celebrian relaxed into his embrace. Hers was not the shape that Elrond’s body remembered. She had always been slender but now she was thin, the lines of her ribs clearly felt beneath his fingers. He wanted to let his hands roam across this familiar yet strange territory but he held them still, fearful that she would pull away if he dared make such an intimate move.

Celebrian listened to the steady beat of his heart, soothing her as it settled once more into its familiar rhythm.

Thus they sat for some time, until the sun dipped beyond the peaks of the surrounding mountains and Earendil rose to sail the autumn sky.


	9. Chapter 9

Pulling on his robe Elrond crossed to the dressing table, fastening the long sash as he sat down. Taking up his comb he began to tug it through hair still damp from his bath, his thoughts upon the morrow’s meeting with the delegation from Dale.

Suddenly a hand gently captured his and he blinked, looking into the mirror to find Celebrian standing behind him. For a moment he thought he was netted in a memory but then he caught her soft rose scent.

“You never did get the knack of this, did you?” she smiled. He surrendered the comb to her and she set it down on the dark carved wood of the dresser, lifting instead a small delicately carved glass vial. Pouring a couple of drops of oil in to her hand and spreading it across her palms, Celebrian warmed it against her skin and the scent of sandalwood escaped from between her fingers.

With long strokes she ran her hands down the dark, waist length hair, combing the oil through with her fingers, and Elrond let his eyes slide shut as he abandoned himself to her touch. Gently, she began to comb the thick curtain of his hair, starting at the ends and working up the strands, her patience and the oil untangling the damp mass.

“I had forgotten how good that felt,” Elrond murmured, his eyes still closed.

“I wish that I had,” Celebrian sighed. Grey eyes opened and met silvered blue in the mirror. 

“I remember what it feels like to lie enfolded in your arms and I remember this smell.” She held her hands up to her face and inhaled deeply. “I remember the warmth of your breath on my throat in the darkness.” Her voice caught and she looked away, beginning to section his hair, combing it back in preparation for the intricate plaiting that he favoured.

He watched her fingers as they moved, almost with a memory of their own, in the remembered pattern. “I remember that too,” he murmured. “I have missed your warmth curled against my back.”

“I know.” Outside, in the darkness, Imladris held its breath.

Celebrian’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “May I . . . may I stay tonight?” She swallowed hard. “I do not know that I can offer you anything but I just want to feel your body close to mine once more.”

Elrond watched her fingers fumble and she had to start the intricate plait again. “I would very much like that. And I will ask nothing of you; just your presence.” He saw the muscles of her jaw relax, and felt Celebrian’s fingers resume their rhythm. When she had tied off the last strand she stepped back and waited for him to stand.

Rising, Elrond crossed to his bed, shrugging out of his robe and climbing beneath the light covers. Hesitating a moment, Celebrian followed him. She paused once more when she reached the bedside, suddenly ashamed of a body that was no longer perfect, and he turned his back to allow her some privacy while she slipped under the covers at the other side. They did not touch but it was some hours before either of them slept. Celebrian lay stiffly upon her back, staring at the carved beams of the ceiling and Elrond curled on his side, watching the stars ride across the sky beyond the window.

In the morning, when Elrond awoke, Celebrian was already gone from his bed, only a slight depression in pillow and mattress testimony to where she had lain. He rolled over and buried his damp face in the pillow, his silent sobs drawing in the perfume of roses that still lingered in the fabric.

0o0

Elrond touched her cheek hesitantly and Celebrian trembled like a fawn as his fingers brushed her skin. This was the touch she had long wanted. The others she had firmly locked away for the moment and she imagined that this was the first time. Elves were not like mortals, who oft flitted from flower to flower as the mood took them. Before Elrond there had been no others for her and it was that memory that she tried to recapture now as she stood before him in the moonlight.

Celebrian’s hand came to rest upon his shoulder, following the slope of firm muscle from arm to neck and then letting her fingers trail up to his ear. She traced the outline of the delicate point, not quite as well defined as her own and Elrond closed his eyes, remembering the first time she had done that, on their wedding night, both of them exploring for the first time.

He reached up to unfasten her robe, sliding the fine rose tinted silk off her shoulders and stepping back to admire her as the garment pooled with a whisper about her feet. Although still too slender, as she had been ever since their capture, yet still she was the Celebrian he had always known. 

He moved closer once more, his hands reclaimed their place upon her alabaster shoulders. Even now she trembled and he knew that if he moved too quickly she would bolt. It was only by an act of her will that she had come this far and neither of them were sure just how much further she would be able to go. So her lover slowed his body’s remembered response to her closeness, willing to let her set the pace and the limits of their joining. 

Elrond closed his eyes now and slid his fingers down her body, mapping the contours of this familiar and well loved country, the firm round swell of her breasts and the gentle slope of her ribcage. His fingertips began to encounter the slight ridges of scar tissue, marring what had once been flawless skin. Scars caused by clawed hands.

He paused. Before Celebrian there had been no other for him. That was the way of their people. And there had been no other since, nor would there ever be, for elves were exclusive in their partners. He was hers and hers alone, just as she was his.

A little more hesitantly Elrond’s hands moved on, slipping down the inward curve of her waist and the slight swell of her belly and there they stopped again as they encountered more fine scars. They were hardly visible and in time would fade completely but he would always know that they had been there. They were the evidence that she was no longer exclusively his. There had been others . . . many others.

That she had not sought their presence was undeniable and yet they were there. They crowded the space between them, faces leering and fingers groping, their vile fluids on her and in her.

Elrond swallowed down rising nausea and opened his eyes, his body feeling suddenly chilled, and Celebrian’s eyes sought out his, questioningly. What she found brought horror to their silver blue depths.

“I am sorry.” Elrond’s hands fell to his sides helplessly as he struggled against the bile rising in his throat. How many times must he say those words? However many times, it would never be enough. “I cannot.”

Celebrian said nothing, only reaching down and fumbling for her robe. She drew it up as quickly as she could, clutching it about her, and fled sobbing from his bedroom.

He was left alone in the darkness with his self-loathing. Until that moment he had not even considered his own feelings about her body’s desecration and now he felt disgusted; not at her but at himself.

Celebrian had turned to him for her healing and he had ripped away from her the only comfort she had left, his love and acceptance. That she should feel unclean and used was bad enough but now she had just had that image reinforced by the one person she hoped could help her dispel it.

Elrond sat down heavily upon the edge of his bed. Should not his love be able to overcome his loathing? His mind said it could but his emotions recoiled still at the thought of all those others invading their union. Would this nightmare never end?

Tears slid slowly down Elrond’s cheeks and rain began to fall steadily in the valley beyond the windows.


	10. Chapter 10

Elrond tapped lightly but when he received no reply he opened the door slowly and peered around it. Celebrian had not heard him, where she sat lost in her thoughts on the balcony of her room.

Feeling like an intruder in a stranger’s room rather than a husband in his wife’s bedroom, Elrond tried to make as much noise as possible as he closed the distance between them, in order to give her prior warning of his presence. She looked up as he cleared his throat at the threshold of the balcony door. Feeling she had no words to share, Celebrian waited for him to speak first.

“Elladan waits in the hallway. At a word from me he will ride out to his brother and tell him that you have changed your mind.” Elrond searched her face hopefully.

“And will you give that word?” Celebrian replied, leaning back into the heaped cushions of her chair with a sigh.

“That will depend upon whether you change your mind regarding taking ship. Why did you not tell me of your decision? Our son was forced to feel that he was betraying a trust by coming to me.” He settled upon the low balustrade, making a conscious effort to push down his anger. Celebrian was not normally one to cause mischief. 

Bending to snip off a stray thread on her embroidery, Celebrian replied. “Elrohir volunteered to take the message. I did not force him, nor did I swear him or his brother to secrecy. I did not tell you because I did not want to have this conversation.” Celebrian sighed. “But it would seem that I am destined to have it after all.” 

“Of course you were destined to have it. Did you really believe that I would just allow you to leave? I need to explain . . . about . . . about last night.” The sentence had begun in an angry tone but had petered out into apology, as it always did nowadays, Elrond mused.

His wife brought silver blue eyes to bear on him and Elrond shuddered at the weariness he saw contained within them. “Oh, I do not blame you but I am tired of treading this lonely road, Elrond. You said that we were joined and what one suffered so did the other, and it would seem that those words are truer than either of us realised at the time. We both need to find healing.”

Elrond blinked back tears, unprepared for her forgiveness. “Give me a little time. I will contact your parents. Perhaps someone can be found to take responsibility for Vilya and then we can travel to the West together,” he pleaded.

Celebrian shook her head sadly. “You told me once that a ring of power chooses its bearer, not the other way around. Vilya chose you and it will stay with you . . . unless it has already told you of another?” she added, hopefully.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb and closing his eyes, Elrond’s shoulders sagged and Celebrian let her own eyes drop to the half-finished embroidery in her lap once more.

“I thought not. It would seem that we are destined to walk separate roads then.” She picked up her needle, preparing to thread it with a bright blue silk. “You may send Elladan to find his brother if you wish, but our roads have diverged and I am not certain that they will ever draw back together again on this side of the sea. At least in the West I have some hope of healing. I now know that I will not find it here.”

Elrond’s mind recognised the logic of her words but his heart sundered, producing an inner anguished wail that he suspected could be heard all the way to Lothlorien. Outwardly, he let his hand fall to rest on the lichen-encrusted wall and pushed himself wearily upwards. 

“I will make arrangements for someone of our household to travel with you on the ship.” He left the room without a backward glance.

Celebrian gave up all pretence of threading the needle for she could not see its eye through the tears misting her own.

0o0

It was a small party that travelled to the Grey Havens the following day; Celebrian, Elrond, the three children and three others of their household who had offered to travel to the West with her. Despite much physical healing, Elrond was fearful that the long sea journey would cause a relapse in his wife and a friend and healer, Aldon, and his small family had offered their services as companions.

The journey to the Grey Havens was not long but it seemed so, due largely to the silence. All about them, as they travelled, the last flowers of summer were beginning to fade but in Imladris, already the leaves were turning to gold. Its summer was gone and to the children of Celebrian and Elrond it seemed it would never return.

All was now loaded on the large white ship and a small knot of relatives and friends stood and waved to those already on board. The twins had said their goodbyes to their mother and friends, and now stood a little way off, hand in hand and stone faced, as their younger sister made her farewell.

Celebrian pushed her daughter away at last and held her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes.

“You will be the Lady of Imladris now.” She reached down to her belt and unhooked a small pouch. “Here are the keys that you will need as chatelaine.”

Arwen hesitated a moment then accepted them gravely and her tears resumed. “Please do not go Ammi. Whatever has come between you and Adar surely it can be fixed? We love you”

Gentle fingertips covered her mouth and Celebrian shook her head. “Sometimes love is not enough, my child. I need to find healing that neither you nor your father can give.” She smiled gently. “And one day we may be together again.” Her fingers moved to brush the tears from her daughter’s cheeks.

Arwen looked up, pleading in her voice. “Then let me come with you. I am not needed here.” She fell back into her mother’s arms and Celebrian staggered a little under the force of her daughter’s clinging embrace.

“Oh Arwen, my child. You may think that you are ready to travel to the West but I know that you are not. Trust me in this. And anyway, who says that you are not needed?” Celebrian disentangled herself and smiled.

“It is now your duty to look after your father and brothers. They do need looking after, you know. Your brothers are far too impetuous and need someone around them who has both feet firmly on the ground. And your father will forget to eat if the plate is not set down on the page in front of him.” She glanced over to where Elrond waited, a granite sentinel by the gangplank.

“Come now. Do not be so sad. There is still so much of Middle earth that you have not seen. I want you to promise me that you will live your life to the full here before you even consider travelling to the West.” She kissed Arwen’s brow. “Promise me.”

Arwen looked up, taking a small step back. “I promise.” But the words were flat. At a nod from Celebrian the twins stepped forward and ushered their sister away.

Slipping a hand beneath her elbow, Elrond helped his wife step onto the gangplank but there she stopped.

His tightly controlled voice found her ears, only slightly louder than the small waves that sloshed against the grey stone of the dock. “I am sorry.” Those hated words again. The hand he had used to help her fell listlessly to his side.

“I know you are, my love.” Celebrian sighed and laid a soft hand tentatively upon his chest.

Elrond’s brow creased. “There is yet time. I could speak to Cirdan and Galadriel and we could travel together,” he said, hopefully. It was his final attempt and it was half hearted for they both knew what the answer must be.

Celebrian’s hand stroked the soft leather of his jerkin. “We have already spoken of this. You cannot take Vilya to the West. It is needed here for as long as the other is unfound. And no-one has come forward to take your place as ringbearer.” 

Elrond’s eyes misted with unshed tears and he clenched his hands, his usually well modulated voice cracking. “And so duty binds me yet again. Always we return to duty.”

Celebrian reached out and took his right hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and unfurling the fingers. Tenderly she kissed the palm, then the finger with his golden wedding band, and finally her lips brushed the soft metal of the sapphire ring that her eyes could not see upon his third finger.

“I would have you no other way. You are the Elrond that I loved and married and despite all that now stands between us, I love you still.”

“No,” he replied firmly. “That Elrond is gone. You changed him. He was locked away in his pain and anger and you threw open the door and let in the sun.” 

Elrond ducked his head to hide his tears but his wife slipped fingers beneath his chin and lifted his face to hers. She moved her hand to brush a wind-whipped strand of raven hair from his cheek and smiled.

“Then, do not lock the door again. Live in the sunlight, not the shadows and one day perhaps, we will meet again.”

“But will you find the healing you seek? If you could not be healed by those who love you so deeply how can you be healed by strangers?”

Celebrian’s words fell like ice in his heart, even though they were kindly said. “Perhaps only strangers can heal me. How can you hope to make me whole when you are not whole yourself?” Letting go, she took a couple of steps along the gangplank then turned. “When you come to the West look for me on the shore. If I am whole, the Celebrian you wed will greet you at the dock.”

He watched her take the final steps to the ship and into the arms of her travelling companions. Unable to hold back her tears any longer she fell against them, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder and Elrond had to will his feet to remain on the dock. Instructions were called and the plank was drawn up. Cables were loosed, the anchor raised, sails were unfurled and the grey ship pulled out into the firth.

Elrond stood watching until his eyes could no longer pick out the ship in the distance and then Arwen turned him about and lead him back to their waiting horses. Although all three of his children wept bitterly on the way home, Elrond sat upright and dry eyed. How could he live in the sun? His sun had just sailed away across the sea and he may never bask in the warmth of her golden light again. 

His children never saw their father cry again in all his remaining years in Middle earth, but back in Imladris the leaves began to fall, damming some of the smaller streams that had laughed and tripped through the valley, until they formed small melancholy pools of still, clear water.


	11. Chapter 11

To Frodo, Elrond had always seemed strong and wise, as though a world of troubles could break against the strong prow of his soul’s ship, leaving it still serenely sailing on in life’s stormy waters. Now the elf opened eyes that had been held closed for much of the latter part of his tale and the hobbit saw, within their ancient depths a long lifetime of pain and sorrow.

Unable to bear the sight Frodo dropped his gaze and found the long slender hands resting in Elrond’s lap; palms upturned and the fingers curled slightly, as though holding a bowl. For long moments the room was silent and then Frodo watched the hands turn over and clasp lightly. Elrond’s voice continued.

“And so, I do not know what I will find upon the far shore; healing or more pain. Like you, I take a journey to an uncertain future, knowing only that I am willing to take the risk that it will be better than the pain of the past that I have been living in.”

Frodo looked up into the rain grey eyes once more and found them shuttered and calm. He was suddenly aware of a cup of mint tea forgotten in his hands and took a sip of the now cooling drink.

“Bilbo says that a cup is always better shared with a friend,” he said simply.

Elrond’s eyes looked deep into his, a slight smile playing on his lips. “And it seems great wisdom does not always need great age to flourish.”

Frodo was propped up amongst the pillows in his bunk, blankets tucked warmly about him, and Elrond sat in a chair at his bedside, a tray of half-empty supper plates between them. Frodo considered his travelling companion over the rim of his cup.

“Neither the Lady Celebrian nor you have trod an easy road.”

Elrond lifted the tray from the bed, setting it on a nearby table. “Not as difficult as the one you were asked to tread, I think.”

Frodo pushed away his own unpleasant memories, trying to focus elsewhere. “Do you think that she did find healing?” he asked timidly.

“I do not know, Frodo. I hope so. I believe that time has given a measure of healing to me but, if Celebrian has survived, I think that she and I will need each other to complete the work.”

Frodo lowered his empty cup and Elrond took it from him, placing it on the tray with his own. The elven healer watched as the little hobbit tried hard to stifle a yawn.

“You are tired and the hour grows late. Sleep. For tomorrow we reach our destination.” He helped Frodo to re-arrange his pillows and then drew the covers over him. 

As Elrond reached the door a quiet voice asked, “Will you sleep too, Lord Elrond?”

The elf paused, his hand still resting upon the handle. “Sleep and I have been poor companions these many years. My dreams are too dark. But perhaps I will find rest standing upon the deck, watching the stars of Elbereth.” 

The soft snick of the door was the last thing Frodo heard before he drifted into sleep, hoping that his own dreams would not be too dark this night.

0o0

It was raining hard and yet everyone was on deck for all knew that this was the day. Even Frodo and Bilbo had joined the throng. Gandalf had given shelter to them both within his cloak but still Frodo pulled his own tightly about him against the damp chill.

He glanced about and located Lord Elrond easily enough, standing alone at the rail a little way off. As Frodo watched, the Lady Galadriel approached her daughter’s husband and laid a hand upon his shoulder, murmuring something in his ear that elicited a weak smile although his eyes remained fixed ahead.

Suddenly the rain thinned, sunlight shone through the curtain of silver droplets and they were sailing beneath the arch of a huge rainbow. The rain ceased and it was as though a veil was drawn aside and they had sailed through a doorway to another world. 

Seagulls wheeled above them as a white walled harbour loomed close and many elven voices rose in excitement, any apprehension gone now with the thought of being reunited with friends and relations.

Frodo stole another glance at Elrond. He stood alone once more, a slight frown upon his face as he scanned the crowded harbour walls and Frodo slipped away from the wizard, to stand at his side.

“Is she there?”

Elrond looked down at the hobbit and shook his head resignedly. “I cannot see her.”

Reaching up hesitantly, Frodo’s hand found Elrond’s larger one. “I am sorry.” And he was sorry. Not just because if Celebrian had not found healing, then the chances of Frodo finding it were slender but because Elrond had opened his heart to him and he could not bear to see his new friend hurting so. Galadriel drifted up to stand at Elrond’s other side once more, smiling down at Frodo and then lifting her slender, white clad arm to point to a place at the harbour entrance.

“There.”

Frodo felt Elrond tense and followed the gaze of the two elves. On the quay at the entrance to the harbour stood a small slender figure clad in a hooded grey cloak. As they watched the hood was pushed back and a wave of long silver hair tumbled to her waist. She raised a hand in greeting, the cloak parting to reveal a long pale blue gown, shimmering with pearls. 

Elrond gasped and then laughed even though tears were flowing freely down his face. He squeezed Frodo’s hand, looking down into questioning blue eyes, his own shining with joy.

“She is wearing the gown she wore on our wedding day.”

Hoping against hope that iron walls would not rebut him, Elrond sent out a soft string of questing melody. “Celebrian?”

A feather soft voice drifted into his mind, bringing with it the heady scent of roses on the air of a warm summer evening. “Yes, my love. I am here. Welcome home.”

 

THE END


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